


Disconnected

by Lidsworth



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Allusions to Kaneki, Angst, Character Study, Depression, Guilt, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-cest, attempted suicide, eating people..., of sorts, religious material
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mutsuki hates himself. Or better yet, it hates itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disconnected

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: If you're offended by religious materials, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, depression,psychological breakdowns, do not read this. You have been warned.

Despite what Mutski wanted to make himself believe, his self loathing had grown within him long before his humiliation at the hands of a blood crazed Torso. It began long before his weakness and possible disposal from the team had been made obvious, as he stood toe to toe with his comrades in the Quinx squad.

 

He remembered the pressure he felt when being presented with the option to chose the life altering surgery. He remembered sitting in that shrinking room, where the silence of the white walls seemed to be screaming louder than his beating heart that seemed to skip beats much too often. His hands had been bathed in salty sweat, that pooled at the bottom of his shirt, as he twisted the fabric in obtuse angles.

 

It too, had grown damp with sweat.

 

“Are you sure you want to do this,” the surgeon walked inside of the room, closing the bulky door behind him, with a “click” that seemed to bounce off of the walls (it sounded like he was closing the doors to who Mutsuki was).

 

His inkling of doubt seemed to grow faster than Jack's majestic beanstalk, as he had thought that prior to this surgery, he'd made his mind up. Though perhaps he felt that way because none of the medical staff had given him a chance to back out and chose for himself.

 

He thought his decision was clear, and had thought that he walked into the establishment with an air of confidence that held little room for regret. But here he was, trembling like a baby on the metal table, biting his lip in a feeble attempt to stifle his sobs.

 

There was a silence that befell the room as the doctor patiently waited for his answer, and Mutsuki wanted more than anything to crumble before the man like the coward he was, and beg to leave that putrid place, and return to the freedom he once had in the past.

 

But there was no past, it was destroyed by the monster he sought to become. There was no freedom, it had been extinguished with the death of his past.

 

“Yes, I'm sure I want to do this,” and his affirmation was wounded, in that his words were full of more holes and plot twist than the world's most poorly put together book. His uncertainty reignited the uncomfortable silence that morphed into chilling screams. He had to catch his own heart before it fluttered out of his chest, though he felt like letting it fly away wouldn't be such a bad thing.

 

The doctor nodded, and pulled his mask, motioning for Mutsuki to follow.

Ooo

When he woke up, he felt dirty, as if some unknown substance had lodged itself into the very atoms of his cells and infected them with some sort of malicious matter. He felt unlike himself, like a sports player who had eaten a bowl of steroids for breakfast, and had traded the comfort of oxygen for the thick scent of dope.

 

When he came to his senses, the grogginess that usually came with waking had vanished. He could see like he'd never been able to before. He could pick out tiny details inside of the room, from small cracks on the seemingly faultless walls, to shadows that stretched underneath the door, morphing into one with the darkness of the room

 

It was inhuman to him, terrifying. Monstrous.

 

All in all, he felt wrong.

 

His sense of smell grew ten times stronger, and suddenly the smell of medication and sterile metal bothered him more than anything. He wanted to puke, but more than anything, he wanted to eat. It felt as if some large whole had been drilled in his stomach, and it ached with every passing second.

 

Though that wasn't the only thing that bothered him. He could hear people outside of the door, talking and conversing about the success of the experimentation. Though their words died down as his hunger erupted into a series of growls from his stomach.

 

He was suddenly reminded of the food his mother prepared for him in the kitchen, and reminded of the ways that the tendrils of smoke carried with it the smell of cookies through his house. It never once missed a chance to find itself inside of his room, swirling around him, enticing him, and drawing him into the kitchen.

 

Only this time, the scent of cookies had morphed into a rather meaty, tingy smell. A smell that he usually would rather not associate with, as it wreaked of blood and iron.

 

But his mouth was watering from the sheer sensation of it. He attempted to rise upward in pursuit of his meal, only to realize that large straps had been placed around his body.

 

He gulped. Had they anticipated for this to happen?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

From day one, it was clearly evident that he others didn't struggle with the same kind of hunger that plagued Mutsuki. His consumption of human food usually found him locked in the restroom in the late hours of the night, beating on his gut, and trying his best to disregard whatever food had been lodged inside of his body.

 

His eye glowed as his hunger took hold of him, to the point where he was so hungry, that his eye was always glowing. The eye patch could only do so much, but when his hunger was negatively affecting his performance, he could only wallow in embarrassment and pity.

 

His reluctance to eat human meat was taking a toll on his body. It was lowering his RC count.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He noticed with a bleak realization, that he wasn't the only being occupying his body. It made its presence known, during one of the worst times possible.

 

Mutsuki had been sent to go get groceries for the squad while they trained with one another. He wondered if Haise had used it as a ploy to get him out of the way, but not to be rude about it. Haise knew he was weak, but Mutuski appreciated that he still kept him along.

 

Though as of now, he considered turning in some sort of resignation. Was that even possible though, he didn't know? But he didn't want to drag his team down further than he already had.

 

Sure, he'd been book smart in the academy, but what was book smarts supposed to do against a legion of ghouls? Their stats had been given to them, and to his dismay, Mutsuki realized how weak he really was, in comparison to the others, Saiko included (and Saiko never left her room).

 

Now here he was, running their errands like some sort of “errand boy”, in some sort of attempt to get him away while the others were training. He was an embarrassment, and Haise most likely didn't want to send his progress, or in his case, lack of progress.

 

So he found himself waling in the middle of Tokyo, full of people bumping one another, shoulder to shoulder. Children ran underneath them, like rats in a sewers, and to Mutsuki's understanding, much of them were like rats, living in sewers. Poor and uncared for, unloved and missed by no one.

 

He could smell them, even past their coats of sweat and grime that had accumulated through days of rolling in the gutter and living without a shower. They smelled sweat, like bags of sweat blood running around, begging him to catch them.

 

His eye was acting up again. He could feel it. And now his stomach was growling, and he was starting to salivate again.

 

_Just get to the store, Mutsuki. Just ignore them, they're kids, they-_

 

He felt one of the children brush up underneath him, and immediately, it took control.

 

 _It_ being his hunger. The very thing that made him so weak.

 

His body often switched to autopilot at these moments. The scent of the child was like some sort of lasso, that tied itself around his psyche, and beckoned him to follower her. Like demons taking control of his soul, he found himself running and running, pushing through the crowd in a senseless hurry.

 

People's shouts and complaints went deaf on his ears as he tore through them, tipping them like dominoes.

 

He found himself in some sort of alley way, and part of him wondered if the girl had chosen to run here, because she sensed that she was being followed by a strange man. And in all honesty, she was being followed by a very strange man.

 

A man who wanted to see her organs splattered on the concrete, who wanted to see beads of her blood rolling on the warm pavement, who wanted to be atop of her body, tearing her limb from limb.

He could see her torn dress up ahead, and he could hear the lose buckles of her shoes beating against the ground.

 

Her hair was like liquid chocolate, beating against itself, each strand twirling around the other. He could imagine his own dark fingers running through that mane (after she was dead, of course).

 

He sped up in his momentary thought process, and he was so close that her tiny heals beat up against the front of his shoes. He could trip her easily, and have her scattered and skinned across the pavement in a heart beat.

 

And so he did it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

His own conscience always managed to return to him when the worst was about to be done. He awoke to the smell of blood, and to the taste of something sweat and sticky in his mouth.

 

_No...I didn't do this! Mutsuki, you didn't do this!_

 

But he did, as the girl's shoulder had sported a rather large flesh wound, which gushed out the very blood that Mutsuki had so evilly gulped up seconds ago.

 

She was paler than death, and her hair lay fanned out underneath her. Mutsuki was on his knees, shaking uncontrollably.

 

“I-I'm s-sorry,” he managed, though his apology went unheard by the dying girl. She gulped up blood as she struggled to breath, and Mutsuki could only kneel above her.

 

_This isn't, this isn't me! I just wanted to...I just..._

 

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, i'm sorry....”  
  
Mutsuki stood, praying to God that she wasn't dead, that perhaps she was just going unconscious from blood loss.

 

As he stood, his legs shook, and nearly locked together. He felt like screaming, he felt like throwing up.

More than anything, he felt like a coward, as his legs carried him away for the accident.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“You're doing a lot better, Mutsuki,” Haise had commented on his strength that later on that day, as his skills had grown considerably stronger in such a short amount of time. Not to mention, he could fight without eye patch on, and he could control his eye for the first time in ages.

 

“What's your secret Muuchan,” Saiko cried, as she watched the battle between Haise and Mutsuki from the side lines. Even Urie looked mildly impressed.

  
“Oh, I-it's really nothing, Saiko-chan,” Mutsuki brushed off the compliment quickly, “I've just been working out, that's all.”

 

“You call that nothing! You almost beat Saasan!” Shirazu beamed, as he ran towards the smaller man, “That's amazing!”  
  


“I think Sasaki-san was just going easy on me-”  
“No, actually, I was going pretty hard on you Mutsuki. Your techniques were so well, that I decided to bump it up a notch. Good job,” Haise looked slightly tired, as he swung a towel over his shoulder.

 

“So what is it Muuchan! How do you do it?”  
“Yeah, you're so awesome Mutsuki? How did you do it?”  
 _I ate a girl._

“I told you, I've just been working a little extra.”  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He remembered once asking his mother what constituted as a mortal sin. She was the first one who knew about how he really felt, how he didn't feel that comfortable in his body.

Mutuski loved God and his faith, but he loved himself too. That meant that he loved himself as a boy, that he loved himself as a son of God, not a daughter.

“Mom, am I going to go to hell?” He'd asked his mother one day, as he joined her in the kitchen to help her cook breakfast. She looked at Mutski that day, looking him up and down, raising an eyebrow at his wardrobe choice.

  
“You're wearing a dress today?” She sounded slightly disappointed in him.

He bit the bottom of his lip, and nodded sadly, “It's Sunday. I didn't want to embarrass you at churc-”

 

His mother held a dark hand up as she closed her eyes, and shook her heavy head. Slowly, she turned towards her son, and put her hands on his shoulder, “You don't live for me, Tooru,” she spoke clearly, and slowly, so he could hear everything she said, “You live for yourself, that means _be yourself._ Dresses and make up Mutsuki, that's not you. Don't lie to yourself Tooru....”   
  
“B-but...” He really didn't know what to say to that, she already knew his fears and his feelings renegading things. He was afraid of what his church would say, how they would respond to his transition. 

 

“You're not going to hell, Tooru,” She spoke again, with a smile, “Anyone who tells you you're going to hell for being who you are isn't really a real Christian, are they?”  


“No, but...” 

 

“But what? Don't make them scare you out of being who you are.”   
  
“They said that it was a mortal sin, that I was going to hell...some of my classmates even said it...”  
  
His mother closed her large eyes again, breathing in deeply as she fought to calm her nerves, and her thoughts, “A mortal sin...a mortal sin is something extremely bad. You know that. It means you're no longer connected to God, and that you may actually go to hell...how is being who you want to be a mortal sin?”  
  
“I don't know, it's just-”  
  
“Did you know you're committing a mortal sin right now, Tooru Mutsuki?” He looked up at his mother, who to his surprise, was dead serious, it was almost scary. 

 

“H-how...”   
  
“You're lying to yourself, Tooru. You're letting these people make you scared to be who you are, you're losing connection with yourself, sweaty. How can you know God, if you won't know yourself, just because people tell you its wrong? Last I checked, your classmates weren't God, were they? Or those kids who tell you that being a boy is wrong, I don't see them with angel wings, do you?” 

 

“N-no,” despite his stuttering, he was happy. His mother had a way of righting what was wrong, though her scare tactic methods, he supposed, were no better than those who believed opposite of what she thought. Though he would stand behind her any day. 

 

“We bought you chest binders, I thought,” she released her son, and returned to her food on the stove, cursing as she scrapped the burnt foot up with the spatula, “Dad and I can go get some more after church, if those are getting uncomfortable.” 

 

“No, that's fine...but if you don't mind, mom, could I go...change?” His mother smiled, and nodded. 

 

He wore pants to church that day, and kept his head high despite the looks of disgust he received from some members of his community, though turned dark shades of red at various times, due to the out pour of support. 

 

They all knew Mutsuki very well, they knew what he wanted to do. Most of them supported him, even the clergy in his village stood behind him. 

 

He learned a few things that day. 

 

God wanted people to be happy, no matter what. A mortal sin was something really bad, and Mutsuki supposed that lying to yourself was something that was really bad. It disconnected you from who you really where, therefore, it disconnected you from God. 

 

Mutsuki seemed to breath easier that day. Though a week after, his family was killed. 

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The television had become his worse enemy that week. He dreaded looking at the headlines, in fear that the small corpse of an innocent girl would somehow find its way to the big screen. He was no longer fearful that they would connect the accident to him, if she happened to be discovered.

 

What he feared was his hunger getting the best of him again. If he were to be caught by the CCG, and punished for his crimes, then honestly, he would deserve it. Better they kill him now, before he did it himself.

OOO

Mutuski saw the headline before he even had a chance to listen to the story. Be she dead, or alive, Mutsuki hadn’t a clue. He left for the restroom as soon as he turned on the television.

OOOO

He felt like throwing up—no--he was throwing up. He made himself do it. Wrung his fingers to the back of his throat, and scratched at the sensitive skin until he felt bile rise in his throat, burning the scars that he'd made.

 

Part of him hoped that he would regurgitate what ever part of the innocent child he'd eaten, the other part hoped that he could spit up his organs along with her. But to his dismay, all that plopped into the water was white stomach acid.

 

With a sob, he flushed the toilet, and staggered to the sink. Turning it to cold, he grabbed a handful of freezing water, and splashed it on his face. His eye patch got caught in his fingers as he slid them against this chocolate skin. A surge of anger rushed through his veins, and in a fury, he tore off the piece of cloth, revealing his red eye.

 

He looked up at his mirror that had been pinned up against the wall just above sink. The gruesome eye looked back at him, and he swore that his own reflection had morphed into something with a cruel smile of jagged teeth, skin that was so dark that he swore that they'd been painted with embers from hell, and a taunting look that irked him to no end.

 

It was teasing him, tearing away its ugly skin, and revealing beautiful brown skin, bright eyes and green hair. It was revealing him. It _was_ him. 

 

_No, you're not that! You're not it. You're not a monster Tooru! You have brown skin, green hair, and you're nineteen years old. You're the weakest member on your team, but Sasaki-san still has high hopes in you. You're a nineteen year old boy who doesn’t know what he wants. You've gotten stronger, and maybe you won't get kicked of the team because a few days ago, you ate a little girl..._

 

He dug his nails into his scalp and nearly screamed as he tore out his hair. He was a coward, he was a weakling, he was a disgrace. 

 

He didn't even deserve to be breathing the same air as the rest of his squad. Tears streamed down his cheeks like beads of water running down a car window. He could hardly bring his gaze to the mirror again, in fear of what he'd see. But the truth was usually breathtaking. 

 

Slowly, he balled his fist together, as tightly as he could. Nails dug into his palm, piercing into them, and drawing hot boiling blood. 

 

_Tooru...this isn’t you. What are you doing? Stop._

 

His mind tried its best to rationalize with him, but his fist was already swinging towards the mirror. The collision, he hoped, didn't wake the occupants of his home. It was early in the morning, Mutsuki had just happened to be addicted to the television for the past few days.

 

He hoped to be alone when the image of his victim flashed across the screen.

 

Glass shattered instantly, and large shards fell to the ground like rain drops. Mutsuki caught one before it could fall into the sink, grabbing it tightly so that it's rigid edges cut deep into the meat of his fingers, perhaps so deep that they could scrape his bones.

 

It hurt, badly, as a jolt of agony ran up his arm, and to his shoulder. He nearly laughed at his own suffering,because he was just getting started. He deserved to feel this pain, in fact, he deserved to feel a lot more pain.

 

He deserved to die. If that innocent little girl had been hurt by his hands, then he deserved ten fold of what he did to her. He cut and sliced at his skin, dragged the glass blade up his arm an into his shoulder. His breathing was erratic as he fought to gain the courage to harm himself, and by now, the pain from tearing into his nerves again scared him more than anything.

 

But he could only think of her innocent little eyes...

 

Those innocent helpless eyes. He felt himself losing control, felt the blade run into his arm on autopilot, tearing his skin to shreds. He'd be done in a few minutes, he'd be “dead as a doornail”.

  
Certainly, Satan was furnishing a place for him in hell, with every second that he tore into his arm.

 

He was losing connection with himself...in fact, he wasn't himself. Not anymore. He couldn't find himself...couldn't find God....

 

“Mother...” he sighed, as he grew tipsy and incredibly unstable, “I'm so fucked.”

ooo

 

He woke in a puddle of his own blood and shards of glass. His skin had healed over, and now a new layer of thick, dark cells had covered his insides. It was almost laughable.

 

His healing abilities always worked when he didn't need them to. “This wasn't supposed to happen,” he muttered to himself, as he ran a hand through his hair, “You were supposed to be dead.”

 

_Damn, damn, damn! Why don't things ever go my way?!_ He felt like crying, as he slammed his fist into the mess beside him. He should've been dead, he should've been dead! Why one Earth did he have to stay alive. 

 

Was this supposed to be his punishment? To live in guilt? 

 

Standing up shakily, he looked at himself in what remained of the mirror. He was lucky, to be alive, to be accepted for who he was, to be loved. 

 

He didn't deserve it. Not any it of it.  _You're such a coward, Mutsuki...you're such an embarrassment! You're a killer! You're a cheat!_

 

By now, tears were streaming down his cheeks again, falling on the ground in large drops, and mixing in with the blood below him.

 

He didn't deserve the air he was breathing, he didn't deserve the love he'd receive when he stepped out of the restroom, he didn't deserve the acceptable he was being granted by his team, he didn't even deserve Haise's smile.

 

But for the strangest reason, he would get them, and all the while, the guilt was tearing him away from the inside. It was like some sort of inferno, that had found its way inside of his body, eroding at his organs, and pulling them deeper and deeper into a fiery pit.

 

_I'm sorry mom, I'm sorry dad, i'm sorry I'm so weak. I'm sorry I'm so pathetic._

 

He didn't need to kill himself to go to hell, he was already living in it. He was already disconnected. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make this a little self-cest, in that the hunger would be nega-Mutsuki, but that's weird, so I just changed his hunger to It, something that's apart of Mutsuki, but not necessarily who he is. So it's apart of him that he needs, but a part of him that he doesn't want. Much like Shironeki and Kaneki. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he develops an alter ego that's out to destroy him. I honestly think that's where it's going. 
> 
> I've noticed so many people draw parallels between Kaneki and Mutsuki, and I tried this out in one of my other stories Butterflies . I think that being a ghoul is something that Mutsuki loves/hates about himself. Hates, because ghouls killed his family, though he most likely sought the surgery as an attempt to make himself stronger, only to turn out to be the weakest on his team. In other words, it backfired on him, thus I can see him loathing himself for that. 
> 
> I noticed that Kaneki struggled with hunger a lot, and will power had a lot to do with it. Sometimes he couldn't even rely on his will power. I mean, we still don't know if he ate Hide, which if he did, would be really, REALLY sad. 
> 
> As for the religious part, a mortal sin in the eyes of the Catholic church is something that you do that disconnects you from God, like killing somebody...without a reason, or just because you're a rotten person. My teachers used to tell me that the biggest part of any sin was intentionality, so if you don't know what you're doing, than it's not really a sin. But people have argued about that.  
> Mutsuki's mother is a little creepy, I know. 
> 
> Guilt is one of the worst feelings you could feel, it destroys you from the inside out. 
> 
> Either way, hoped you enjoyed this one shot. Have a wonderful weekend, and God bless. 
> 
> ugh, and school continues to get more agitating.


End file.
